


Tinsel Wrapped Memories

by Popsmart



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Feels, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Drinking & Talking, Eventual Smut, Feels, Grinding, I seriously dislike sugar crystal sprinkles, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Self-Hatred, Sloppy Makeouts, Snow, adding more tags as I go, holiday depression, kiss tease, serious talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-09-23 08:05:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17076524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popsmart/pseuds/Popsmart
Summary: It's Christmas time, so that means another year has came and went since the fall of Overwatch and, as much as it hurts to say, Gabriel. Which means another year of drinking, self loathing, and holiday depression.





	1. Memories Of Christmas Past

Jack glared at the storefronts and the Christmas decorations splayed around them. Christmas this, Christmas that. It was insufferable every year since - Jack winced at the thought running through his mind. _Since I lost Gabriel._  The words bit into him, worse than the unforgiving wind whipping his face. Jack used to love the holidays, but now he drinks them away, along with his sorrows. He dealt with the same hurt, every single year. It didn’t help that all of his old friends just kept telling him to be ‘happy’ and ‘enjoy the festivities,' like he could let go of all the years he had with Gabriel. He was his best friend, his lover, and his soulmate. None of that could be faked away.

Jack stopped in front of an especially decorated store to take a second and collect himself. He pulled his wallet from his pocket and opened it to a wrinkled photo of his beloved. A dorky smile melt his weary and grief-stricken eyes, one he had seen for so many decades; one he had missed for many more. That gorgeous grin, immaculately framed by an iconic goatee. The same facial hair Jack used to run his fingers through and tiredly nuzzle in the middle of the night. For a moment, he could almost believe that he was actually there with Gabriel, in the photo. His cologne tickling the inside of Jack's lungs one last time, his voice making decade-old butterflies thrive inside of Jack's stomach. For a moment, Jack could almost feel whole again.

The old man chewed his bottom lip, tears threatening to spill over in his eyes as he peered down at the little piece of paper that held so much power over him and his emotions. Against his better judgement, Jack took the photo out of his wallet and delicately turned it between his fingers. Bright red letters taunted him in Gabriel’s handwriting.

 _“I hope that whenever we’re apart you’ll look at this picture and remember that I’m here, still loving you no matter where I am. I love you, Morrison. ~Reyes_ ”

Tears dripped from Jack’s chin and landed in small, splattered droplets on the photograph. He quickly tucked the picture back where it belonged, along with his wallet and angrily wiped his tears. He was thankful that there weren't very many people willing to be caught in this sort of weather, but he still scorned himself nonetheless for crying in public.

“Hey you doing okay, old man?” A kind, yet stern, voice called from behind Jack, making his stomach flood with an overwhelming amount of excitement, his throat tightening as if he were about to hurl. That voice sounded all too familiar. Emotions crashed through and tumbled around in Jack’s head.

“Gabriel?” He spun on his heel, his scarf almost whacking the man now in front of him. Jack’s entire world came crashing down around him and his face fell stiff when his eyes landed on the owner of the voice: a tall, dark haired, bronze skinned man probably in his late twenties, early thirties. He looked so much like Reyes that it made Jack physically ill at the sight of him because he _wasn’t_ Reyes, he was some stranger who had caught him blubbering like a child outside of a shop in the middle of goddamn winter.

Sensing the ever apparent distress Jack was going through, the man offered his hand, giving a warm smile to break the tension. “No, but I am Jett. Ya know, Jett. The owner of the comic store you’re loitering in front of.” Jett chuckled at that last part, a clear sign that he was just teasing. Jack didn’t laugh, however. He was still fixated on the features of the man’s face, grimacing at his smile. _He even smiles like Gabe._ Jack thought bitterly.

Finally, Jack reached out to accept the offered handshake. “Allow me to apologize, sir-”

The other man yanked his hand back. “Jett.” He stated. “Manners are always welcome, but please, call me Jett. Or Bryan. Whichever is preferable for you.” Despite his serious tone, he still wore a soft, warm smile that made Jack’s heart absolutely melt.

Jack lightly chuckled, finally breaking at least a formal smile and shaking the memories of Gabriel out of his mind for just a moment. “Right, Jett. Allow me to apologize. I didn’t mean to cause a scene or bum around the front of your store. I’m Jack.” A strong hand clapped him on the shoulder, a snort escaping Jett’s body.

“Why don’t you come inside, Jack? You look like you’re cold and could use a drink or two. Or five!” With the day Jack’s had, he welcomed such luxuries with open arms. Drinking was the only thing that kept him sane during the godforsaken holidays.

Inside, Jack noticed that the entire interior was decorated with space cosmetics. Rockets lined the walls, miniature planet models hung from the ceiling, entire galaxies were used as wallpaper, little aliens pointed to each section of the shop, there was even a space suit locked away in a crystal-clear display case in the store window.

“Yeah, if you can’t tell then this _entire_ comic store is space themed. It took eons, but I finally made something of this place.” Jett beamed, his entire aura melting right through Jack’s cold, aching bones. He could feel his heart making a plunge towards his stomach. Being here, in this astronaut’s wet dream of a place, made him remember things that he wished would stay buried in his heart and, most importantly, his mind forever. Locked away to never see the light again - because his light died the day he lost Gabriel Reyes.

An awkward, dry cough brought Jack back from the dark edges of his thoughts. Jett looked at him with genuine concern in his astonishing brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Jett, I must’ve zoned out. What was it that you were saying?” Jack flashed a plastic smile, hoping the light blush coating his cheeks went unnoticed.

“Ah, it wasn’t really important. I was just rambling about the hardships of starting your own business, especially something like a comic book store. _Especially_ a space one. My kitchen is usually what brings the kids in. Well, that and my Wi-Fi that I offer with at least one purchase.” Jett awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. For the first time, Jack noticed that he had a slight build to him, not too scrawny and not overly hulked out. Definitely wasn’t Gabe’s military physique, but it was certainly how he was built when they were teens.

“So, er - Why did you pick a space theme, Jett?” Jack tried desperately to keep his mind (and eyes) from wandering too far.

“Say my name aloud and real slow for me. You got this, big guy.” Jett winked and flashed a cocky smile, earning a malignant glare from Jack. Jett threw his hands up defensively, chuckling. “Just fucking with you, man. Don’t mean to offend. But yes, I pursued a space themed comic book shop idea because my last name is Jett. It’s not the most thrilling backstory for this place, but we can’t all have interesting lives.”

Jack rolled his eyes, walking around to better examine the place. Surprisingly, he finally took notice of the little Christmas decorations strewn about here and there. The windows and door were the most heavily decorated, but there were still some noticeable lights and ornaments everywhere else. Towards the back of the store, near the kitchen Jett had mentioned, there was a tall, silver tree. Small rockets, stars, aliens, and other assorted space things dangled beautifully against the tree in the dim, colored lights.

“You like it, Boss?” Jett asked, tapping Jack on the shoulder with a cold object. Jack looked over, seeing that it was the beer he was promised.

“Where’d you get these?” Jack smiled, taking the beverage. Despite being winter time, a cold beer in his hand never felt better and more comforting.

“I have a mini fridge hooked up behind the register underneath the counter. Decided to grab ‘em while you were checking out the place.” Jett took a pocket knife out and popped the lid off his own drink with the window stud, the little cap making a satisfying sound as it skittered across the floor somewhere. He tipped the bottle back, audibly gulping down a few mouthfuls. Jack just looked at him in absolute awe. He was goddamn perfect and Jack hated it while simultaneously loving it. On one hand, he looked almost exactly like Gabriel. On the other, he was too young for Jack. He didn’t need to waste his time with some old war vet who was still technically in hiding since Overwatch fell. Jack didn’t even enjoy being out for longer than he needed to be, so what could he offer Jett? A quiet night at his house because he couldn’t risk being out for too long, less Talon track them both down and murder them in cold blood?

“There something going on at home, man? Get into a fight with the missus?” Jett turned towards Jack, his bottle dangling lazily from his hand at this point. “Noticed you’ve been ‘zoning out’ a lot and staring at nothing.” Jack made a face, shaking his head and softly chuckling. _Shit. Shit._ _Shit!_ Jack screamed in his head despite his calm response to the matter.

Jack hesitated for a moment, swallowing thickly. “Nah, there’s not a missus. Or a mister. Not anymore, that is -” The words, as simple and as harmless as they may have seemed, sounded broken and lingered in the air. _Why the_ _fuck did I just say that out loud?_

Jett’s typically relaxed and somewhat cocky expression switched to one of compassion and sorrow. He placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder, offering a squeeze of comfort. “Listen, my family is having a Christmas party in a couple of weeks and I want to invite you. You seem like someone who needs some Christmas spirit.”

Jack shook his head, sighing. “I don’t want to you to feel sorry for me, son. I’ve seen that look far too many times before.”

“I insist, Jack. I want to you to come to the party. There’ll be booze, people, food, you name it.” Jett’s gorgeous, dark eyes pleaded with Jack’s cold, blue ones. _God, why do you have to be so much like him?_ Jack sucked on his teeth and finally gave in, nodding his head.

“I won’t make any promises, but I’ll make an effort to try and stop by, alright? Just stop giving me that face. You look like a sad puppy, you know.” _You look like Gabriel when you do that._ He corrected in his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to write this. I got caught up in the typical holiday stuff. Anyways, here's chapter 2!

The overwhelming hum of Jett’s car made Jack feel anxious, like he was making a mistake. His nails dug into the palms of his hands, trying to distract himself from the pit in his stomach. As much as Jack wanted to back out of this and stay home to drink the night away, he couldn’t. Jett had picked him up and they were already more than halfway to Jett’s house, so it’d be inconvenient and downright fucking rude if he asked him to turn around. Besides, Jack bothered to dress up in his best clothes and even put cologne on. It’d be a waste to go home without so much as a belly full of booze.

Jett pulled up to a house excessively decorated with lights and lawn decorations, the trees were neatly wound with an array of colors and little lights arranged to look like stars. Jack flicked his eyes toward the roof and noticed that there were even reindeer along with Santa and his sleigh. The display was made entirely of lights, so sparkles danced around Santa as he waved and winked at any onlookers.

The two men stepped out of the car, trudging through the generously powdered front lawn. They stopped at the front door, taking a moment to prepare themselves before they were inevitably bombarded by friends and family members.

"I should probably warn you before we go in that my parents can be a little - how to put it? Overwhelming. But they’re the least of our worries compared to the rest of ‘em. They’ll love you, though. I guarantee it.” Jett smiled up at Jack, squeezing his shoulder in the usual manner. Jack couldn’t help but to notice the lingering touch before Jett finally pulled his arm away.

He tried to think nothing of it but his mind kicked into overdrive, throwing thoughts and ideas around. Jack hadn’t even given himself the chance to so much as consider whether or not he was interested in Jett that way. Sure, he looked like Gabriel and his overall mannerisms were the same, but he wasn’t Gabe and Jack wasn’t too sure whether he was ready to commit to another person again. He was getting too old for this shit, anyways.

Before any silence between them became undoubtedly awkward, Jett knocked on the solid, dark oak door. The two shifted on their feet. It was freezing outside, so the sooner they could get inside where it was warm and cozy, the better.

Relief washed over them when they could hear someone on the other side of the door fumbling with the locks.

The door swung open and there stood a short, dark haired woman in an ugly Christmas sweater. The horrid thing was a bright green with a snowman made out of white, red, and black tinsel on the chest. Aside from the sweater, the woman looked gorgeous. White and red candy canes dangled from her ears, framed by her jet black hair and beautiful bronze skin.

Her eyes lit up the moment they landed on Jett and then Jack. Excitement filled the air as she drew the two in for a giant hug. Jack assumed this had to be Jett’s mom. She reminded Jack of his own mother, so the hug was not an unwelcome one, at least. The woman even smelled great, a mix of designer perfume and peppermint with a hint of vodka somewhere.

“Where did you find this one, Mijo?” Jett’s mother grinned ear to ear, pulling back from the hug and placing a hand on either side of Jack’s face, examining him. A light blush started to creep into Jack’s face at every little noise and comment she made while looking him over. Admittedly, he was mostly worried that she’d question his age. He was probably around her age, if not older. Some questions were bound to be asked, right?

“Mama, why don’t you head into the kitchen and help Pops with the food, huh? You know he can’t so much as work the oven without you. Give Jack some time to get adjusted before we start probing him.” Jett shot Jack an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just can’t help myself when you bring your boyfriends home! It’s not often I get to know what you’re up to anymore.” Mrs. Jett’s face fell for a moment then immediately picked back up. Her son wrapped an arm around her shoulder and lead her down a hallway, leaving Jack outside on the doorstep.

He cautiously stepped inside and shut the door, hoping no one would mind that he invited himself in. While he was almost certain no one would give two shits if he brought himself in from the cold, he didn’t want to make a bad impression. Not with the rest of the family, that is. Mrs. Jett obviously adored him and even thought that he was Jett’s boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

The word lingered inside of Jack’s mind. Maybe he was overthinking things, but Jett didn’t even correct his mom. He didn’t want to jump to any conclusions or seem so full of himself that friendly gestures just had to be romantic, but Jett was a very flirtatious person, just as Gabriel had been. It was often hard to tell what was a joke and what was a genuine come-on when it came to those two. In fact, that’s how Jack and Gabriel got together. Gabe got a little too flirty one night and Jack was tired of trying to decipher every word, so he decided to be the one to initiate things.

After a few minutes of patiently waiting, Jett finally popped around the corner from wherever he had gone. A confused look glossed over his face when he realized Jack was still standing almost right where he had left him.

"What’re you doing, man? I thought you’d be in the living room by now.”

“I didn’t think it’d be proper to wander around your house, especially when your family is around.”

Jett rolled his eyes a little too dramatically. “No one’s here yet, doofus,” His expression changed to one of embarrassment and guilt. “I kind of told Mama we’d help her make food and set up some more decorations, so we’re here a little earlier than everyone.”

It was Jack’s turn to roll his eyes. He wasn’t mad, but he was definitely annoyed by the lack of information he was given on the matter. Honestly, he was more worried about having time with Jett’s parents than he was about decorating and cooking. Mingling wasn’t Jack’s strong suit and never really had been, even before his partner passed away. Gabe was always the life of the party and the overall icebreaker.

As if reading Jack’s mind, Jett clapped him on the shoulder and shook him, flashing a smile that was all too familiar. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, Jack. My parents don’t bite and the rest of my family are talkative, so they’ll lead the conversation if you get caught in their web, okay?” Jett’s grip loosened and his hand trailed down the length of Jack’s arm before retreating back to Jett’s side.

The movement was all too intimate and a wave of heat shot through Jack’s lower region. He bit into his lip and stepped away from Jett, trying to suppress some of his arousal. Jett wasn’t letting Jack off the hook that easily, however.

He grabbed Jack by the dark leather jacket he was wearing and tugged him back to where he was standing previously, locking his arm around Jack’s. Jett was flush against Jack’s side and his head rested against his shoulder for a moment before they were hastily drug down the hall by the younger man.

Jack would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy being rushed around like this, being forced to socialize with people and stop being such a pathetic downer all the time. Sure, he was a grown man and he was independent for the most part, but it was just so nice to have someone take the lead again so he didn’t have to.

The smell of gingerbread, cinnamon, peppermint, and other sorts of mouth-watering foods grounded Jack back down into reality again.

Jett’s father was bent over the stove taking a hot pan filled with what looked like cookies out of the oven. He turned around to notice the two men standing in the kitchen doorway. Breaking into a toothy grin, he waved for them to come inside. “Is this the man I’ve been hearing about?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, or tried to, really. Jett was still clinging to his arm like an overly excited lover who was happy just to be near him. The sight of it honestly warmed his heart and eased his nerves, even if just a bit.

“What’re we cooking, Mr. and Mrs. Jett?” Jack spoke up, plastering a grin on his face to match everyone else. Jett finally let go of him long enough so they could individually walk into the kitchen.

“Please, call us Andrew and Stella.” Jett’s mom called over her shoulder, fiddling with a piping bag.

"Do you two need help with anything, Stella?” Jack stepped up beside her. She was such a short woman and he was such a tall man, so looking down at her was a little more humorous than it should’ve been and Jack just couldn’t help but to think she was downright adorable, exactly like his mom.

Stella set down her piping bag filled with dark green frosting and reached to the left, grabbed a bowl full of sugar crystal sprinkles and thrusted it at Jack. “Here ya go, hon.” She smiled sweetly.

As much as Jack wanted to help, he loathed those sprinkles. They were almost as bad as glitter in his experience. No matter, he agreed to help cook and decorate. Well - Jett agreed, anyways.

Jack reluctantly took the bowl and started sprinkling the cooled tray of cookies in front of him. He didn’t want to overdo it with the sprinkles, but Stella made a face at his frugal amount and encouraged him to go all out if he so pleased. She assured him that everyone in their family preferred more sprinkle than cookie.

“How else do you think our baby boy Bryan stays as energetic as he does?” Mrs. Jett cooed.

“Oh haha, Mother.” Jett sneered from somewhere else in the kitchen. Jack turned and spotted him in the back picking food off of a table.

“I don’t mean to be a snitch ma’am, but Jett seems to be.. Partaking in the food before we’re even done with some of it.” Jack whispered to Stella, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Stella whipped around on her heel and barked at Jett, causing the poor man to jump and drop some of the food he was attempting to sneak. Jack tried stifling a laugh and wound up snorting instead. I could get used to this. He smiled to himself.

 

~ ~ ~

About an hour had passed and everyone was almost done with their tasks. The only thing that was left to do was set up the snack table for when the guests arrived. Jett’s parents had given the job to him, but of course he just whined and puppy-dog-eyed Jack into helping him and basically doing everything.

Jack wasn’t at all bothered by the childish behavior. He was quite used to it since Gabriel had always done the same thing to him every year. As much as Gabe loved the holidays, he hated putting in any of the actual work for them. Sometimes it seemed like Gabe was the spirit and Jack was the labor of the holidays.

That didn’t really matter now.

Jett bumped Jack with his hip, causing some of the overly-sprinkled cookies to slide off the plate Jack was holding and onto his shirt. Green and red sparkled brightly against his plain black shirt. Jett snickered.

“Very funny, shrimp.” Jack grumbled. He set the plate down on the table and attempted to brush the annoying, clingy sprinkles off of his clothes. All he succeeded in doing was getting them attached to his hand.

A thought popped into his head.

Jack turned towards Jett and raked his hand down the front of the other man’s shirt, a devilish grin spreading across his face. A look of exaggerated horror flashed across Jett’s face.

Jack remembered many holidays just like this; ones where he and Gabe would tease each other and make a mess of themselves. Looking down at Jett covered in sprinkles and seeing his expression made Jack’s stomach feel warm. It was all he could do not to lean down and kiss him, just to get one last taste of his lover, even if it wasn’t actually him.

“Jack?” Jett stepped towards him, putting his hands on his shoulders. A dark blush coated Jett’s cheeks. He stood on his tiptoes, getting eye level with Jack. His face and lips were mere inches from Jack’s. The warmth radiating off of Jett’s flushed face made Jack’s pants tighten and, admittedly, made him blush.

They stood there like that for a moment, inches from being able to kiss.

Jett leaned in a little closer, his soft lips brushing against Jack’s, still not quite connecting.

A knock at the door startled them from their intimate pose and they pulled apart, straightening themselves before anyone saw.


	3. Chapter 3

Not even twenty minutes after showing up, Jett’s family started interrogating Jack.

“Where did you meet Bryan?”

“How long have you two known each other?”

“What line of work are you in?”

Question after question pelted Jack, but he took it all with grace and answered as many as he was comfortable with. Obviously there was a lie here or there along with a few exaggerations, but he was still as truthful as he could’ve been under the circumstances his lifestyle put him in. All was good. Everyone was cracking jokes, laughing, listening to music. Some stories were exchanged, even the personal and embarrassing ones, especially of Jett’s youth.

It wasn’t until Jett’s family had a few drinks in them that they started up the questions again, asking the more expected, but still dreaded ones. Ones that were a little more personal, ones that seemed more accusative.

“Where did you get those scars?”

“Aren’t you a little old?”

“Are you prepared to settle down?”

Just like the previous flood of questions, Jack answered each and every one. Even the ones that were more accusatory or hateful than before. Everything was going smoothly in Jack’s eyes until Jett’s aunt dug even deeper with her curiosity.

“Were you married before?”

“Why are you single?”

The old man swallowed thickly, his molars grinding together. The room suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if all eyes were on him. For the most part, they were, and he fucking hated it. He hastily stood up, excused himself, and dashed to the bathroom. He didn’t even give anyone a chance to question where in the hell he was running off to, and he didn’t really care. Jack just needed to clear his head, to calm down and collect himself. He didn’t want to be here anymore, he just wanted to go home and drink himself to sleep. Like always. He wanted so badly to just crawl back into his shell and cry like a goddamn coward.

As Jack all but _ran_ to bathroom, his thoughts started attacking him and he honestly didn’t know what hurt more. The reminder of Gabriel or the reminder that he never got to propose to him. He had full well intended to, but fate had other plans for the two lovers in arms and the crushing weight of never marrying his soul mate paired perfectly with the ongoing cocktail of emotions in Jack’s fucked up head.

For years he suppressed the topic of marriage within the back of his skull, but now everything was bursting free of its little corner within Jack’s conscience and he felt like he was suffocating.

After what seemed like an eternity walking through the Jett home, rambling to himself and listening to his own mind belittle him, he finally spotted a door that had a fake, diamond handle that he assumed was the bathroom.

Jack reached out and twisted the knob, a rush of relief coursing through him as his eyes landed on a bathtub and toilet upon opening the door. He practically fell inside, quickly shoving the door closed behind him.

The bright sterile white of the bathroom physically hurt Jack’s eyes, but it was honestly a temporary safe haven, one that finally allowed him to break down for just a moment and get everything out of his system.

 _Why didn’t you ever give him that stupid ring, Morrison? Why did you never just ask him?!_ Jack scolded and screamed at himself inside of his mind. He had always, _always,_ wanted to ask Reyes for his hand in marriage, but truthfully, he was scared. He fought wars, he’d seen men get their heads blown open right in front of him, he even got blown up once or twice. Still. Nothing was ever as scary for Jack Morrison as asking his true love to marry him. The thought of rejection always tainted the idea and made him cower like a child.

Tears bubbled at the edges of Jack’s eyes and threatened to spill over, and he finally gave in to them. They fell down his face and splattered onto the bathroom counter. His hands gripped the sink, knuckles turning white. He sobbed, giving into his sorrow instead of drinking it away or pushing it down.

After he was done feeling sorry for himself, Jack gazed into the unfamiliar bathroom mirror, running tired yet steady fingers delicately across his faded scars.

Reminders, more like it.

He was tired of every little thing being connected to Reyes and he was tired of being triggered by simple questions or the mere mention of his past, he was supposed to be happy today, after all. His first party since the incident, coming out of his shell and socializing. Hell, he was even there with Jett to help ease the process. It was just hard to let himself be happy. He didn’t _want_ to be happy unless Gabriel was there, but he wasn’t and Jack had to accept that fact.

Just outside of the door Jack could hear the muffled party music and the laughter. _You don’t belong._ His thoughts taunted him. They were right. He _didn’t_ belong. He was just as unhappy this year as he was every year and he was a fool to think that anything would be different. Surrounding himself in happy people didn’t mean _he_ was happy, it just meant that he had to suffer and watch everyone else have what he couldn’t.

A knock at the door startled him from his broken thoughts, “Jack? You doin’ okay?” Jett called through the door, his soft voice made the pit in Jack’s stomach ease up and his throat loosen. No, he wasn’t Gabe but he was still just as comforting these days. Even if he had only known him for a short while.

When Jack finally came out of the bathroom, Jett was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. _He must’ve been listening to me before he checked on me._ Jack concluded. Normally he’d be a bit put off by the thought of someone eavesdropping or following him around, but he knew Jett meant well and if he was as much like Gabriel as he thought, Jack also knew that he wouldn’t hurt a fly unless necessary. His assumptions were solidified once the other man gave a gentle, sympathized smile. One he had seen too many times before.

“I didn’t mean to run off on you, kid. I just needed - “

“I don’t need an explanation, Jack. I know you were hesitant to come anyways, so I think I can handle you taking a break from everything. Just next time don’t ditch me with my Aunt Ashlin. I love her, but that woman can ramble, man.”

Jack didn’t have enough time to wash away his tears or generally clean himself up, so Jett was giving him a courtesy by not asking about his ragged and broken appearance. Again, it was a trait that Gabriel was known for. He never bothered Jack about his problems unless he was approached with them. It was always Gabe’s specialty to just try and cheer him up rather than confront the problem, whatever it was.

“D’you wanna get out of here, Jack?” Jett asked after a moment of the two standing in silence.

Jack sighed and broke out into a massive grin. “I thought you’d never ask, honestly!” The younger man stood up, clapping his hand over Jack’s shoulder just as he always did. This time, however, the clap was different. Instead of instantly pulling away or letting the touch linger, Jett started delicately rubbing the tense muscle, his expression was soft and comforting, yet cocky.

The older man’s heart fluttered and excitement pooled into his underwear. He had never realized up until this point just how _hungry_ he was for touch, for intimacy. Not even sex, just touching. Just kissing, holding, cuddling. He was so hungry to just be _loved_ again. He wanted more, so, _so_ , much more. He wanted to pick Jett up and tear into him right there in the hallway of his parents’ home, he wanted to hear his own name fucked out of his friend, and he wanted to hear the innocent, lewd noises Jett could offer.

Before Jack could respond, or even _think_ to respond, Jett took his hand back and turned on his heel, pretending as if he didn’t just make a grown man consider tapping into his primal urges just from a simple, quick shoulder rub. He was so blissfully unaware of the impact he had on Jack and it was so _hot._

“Mama! Pops! Me and Jackie are leaving, we’ll see you guys some other time!” Jack’s young companion hollered through the house. He wondered if they could even hear him, what with the Christmas music and the chatter going on. To some degree, Jack didn’t think his friend cared either way. Jett seemed more concerned about getting him out of there than to continue gossiping with his family about affairs he didn’t much care for.

“Are you taking me home?” Jack whispered to Jett as they made their way to the front door.

“No? Do you _want_ to go home?” The other man scoffed, tugging his coat on.

As much as he really _did_ want to go home, Jack didn’t think it would hurt to stay out for a while and keep his buddy company. He was old and socially inept, but he wasn’t a buzzkill and he damn sure wasn’t a _grandpa_ of all things, though that one could be heavily debated. He shook his head and flashed Jett a smile. “I think I’ll be fine.”

Without warning, Jett snatched Jack’s hand and tugged him out of the door. The snow outside hadn’t changed much, but the air was colder and seemed to seep into Jack’s ancient bones. Other than the constant grief he experienced during the holidays, the cold had to be one of the main reasons he absolutely loathed them.

When they finally reached Jett’s car, he shyly looked up at Jack and chuckled, “I uh - I need to grab the keys from my pocket, but - uh -” Jett held up their entwined hands. Jack shrugged and detangled his fingers, stuffing his hands into his pockets for warmth.

After unlocking the car, Jett yanked open Jack’s door for him. The gesture was sweet and polite, but admittedly dorky and almost childish, especially given the other man’s height and overall appearance. Still, it was a sight that plucked at Jack’s heartstrings and made him sick with emotion.

“So, where you kidnapping me to?” Jack teased, easing his ginormous build down into the seat of the car.

“Hey, that’s not how kidnapping works!” Jett laughed, taking his place beside Jack in the driver’s seat. He jabbed the key into the ignition, turning towards the older man. “Seriously though, it’s a surprise. Then again, you don’t know me much so I don’t know _why_ this place would be a surprise, but listen it’s a place I used to go to when I was younger. Stop being nosey!”

Jack’s hand flew up to his chest in an appalled gesture, exaggerating a scoff. “I just want to know if I’m being taken to some sleazy bar or a _whore-_ tel. I didn’t even get so much as a _sip_ of alcohol at your ‘party,’ as you called it.” Jett flipped him off and shook his head as they began to pull away from the house.

The neighborhood sped by them, the scenery grabbed Jack’s attention, so much so that he hadn’t even noticed Jett’s hand wandered its way over to his thigh. Jett firmly squeezed and the sudden sensation made Jack jerk, causing him to ram his knee against the car door. Jett rubbed little soothing circles with his thumb, almost like he were calming an angry giant.

“Did I startle you, Big Guy?”

“N-no, I just - I didn’t expect you to..” Jack trailed off and gave nothing more than the shake of his head. A crimson blush splattered his face. He felt like a teenager again, getting felt up in the car on prom night while his date smelled strongly of booze and cheap cigarettes. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it made him feel so - _vulnerable._ Being an old war vet, you can’t let your guard down, but it was hard to follow something as simple as self-preservation when your hormones clouded your judgement and all you wanted to do was fuck or be fucked silly.

The feeling only deepened when Jack became aware that he was rock hard in his jeans with Jett’s hand only inches away from his crotch, still rubbing circles into his muscled thigh. Everything told him to move his friend’s hand and contain his shame, but some small part wanted to let Jett explore, to let him brush against or outright grab Jack’s throbbing member through his pants. _God you’re so fucked up, Morrison._ Jack scolded himself, but it didn’t change anything. He still sat there like a goon, allowing Jett to stroke his thigh. He even silently begged that the other man would go higher. So when Jett took his hand away, Jack let out a childish whimper.

Jack’s hands flew up to cover his mouth, silent curses repeated in his head. He had hoped that the whimper was too silent for Jett to notice, let alone hear, but his wishes were ignored because the younger man was looking right at him now. _Fuck, fuck,_ ** _fuck!_** His mind screamed. Until now, Jack was totally oblivious that the car had stopped moving. He was too busy trying to jizz his pants for his friend.

“Do you want me to put my hand back?” The question was so innocent but so devastating to hear. Mostly because Jack didn’t know how to properly answer. He didn’t want to rush into anything, but he craved more touching, more intimacy.

“I don’t-” Jack let out a shaky breath, trying to remember that he _was_ an adult and he needed to pull himself together. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, kid.” The admission, while as simple as it was, took a lot out of Jack. He wanted to say so much more, but he settled for less.

Though the silence was routine for them, Jack’s stomach dropped in anticipation, hoping that Jett would say something, would _do_ something, but he didn’t. For once, his friend was uncharacteristically quiet. The only sounds shared between them were the low rumble of the car, the heater working industriously to keep them warm, and their own breathing.

Jack was so desperate for _something_ to be said that he didn’t even care when Jett finally spoke to ask a question, “Who’s Gabriel?”

With a sigh, Jack ran a hand down his face, stopping at his chin to rub the stubble that was already beginning to grow back despite having shaved that morning. “He-” Jack stopped to clear his throat, then continued, “He was my lover and had been for - God - _years_. Knew him even longer.” He swallowed around the lump pressing down inside his throat.

“What happened to him?”

A bitter chuckle escaped the older man’s body, “He passed away in an - an accident, about a decade or so ago.” Jack bit his lip, concentrating his gaze on the view in front of them. Jett had apparently driven them to an old, cheesy makeout spot because they were overlooking the city, not a whole lot around them other than trees, the unending darkness beside and behind them, and the breathtaking glow of the city ahead of them. Jack had taken Gabriel to one of these places when they were in the military, shortly after Vincent had left the picture. They were drunk and young. It was one of many nights that had rocked Jack's world, and it was because of _Gabe._

“Why did you call his name the first day you met me, Jack? If he’s been gone so long.”

“You look exactly like him.” Jack didn’t even so much as hesitate with his answer, he already anticipated this exact conversation happening sooner or later, so there was no point in lying or avoiding the truth. “Truth is, you talk like him, you act like him, you look like him. If I wasn’t already well accustomed to how death works, I’d be convinced you _are_ him.” Another bitter chuckle left Jack’s mouth, the pain ever so present in his shaky breaths. “I couldn’t be that lucky though, huh?” A broken smile flashed at Jett.

“ _Shit._ I-I didn’t know any of this, Jack. If I did I wouldn’t have-”

“Wouldn’t have what? Got me out of my shell? Got me out of my sad, pathetic apartment so I could maybe, just _maybe_ find happiness again? You’ve been great, kid.” Jack reached over and placed his hand on Jett’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

“Hey, what do you say we stop with the mushy shit and have a bit of fun, eh?” Jett pulled a bottle - or, what _looked_ like a bottle through the dark - out of his coat and shook it in front of Jack. The contents within sloshed around, the sound almost hypnotic.

Just as Jack began to reach out for the bottle, Jett yanked it back and popped open his car door. “Come on, let’s sit outside!” Sometimes it was easy for Jack to forget that his friend was young and energetic, just as he had been at one point in his life. Nonetheless, he wasn’t going to say no to the opportunity of drinking. Especially when the night was cold and the view was romantic.

With the shake of his head, Jack followed suit. However, he regretted his decision the moment he felt the piercing chill of the air. He shuffled to the front of the car, meeting Jett on the hood. The younger man had already dug into the bottle, lying flat against the car with one leg bent in the air. He was almost chugging the fucking thing.

Jack snatched the bottle, dribbling a little onto Jett, and took a swig for himself. He held the bottle out, reading the label. It was some expensive brand he had never even heard of before, let alone drank. He was never poor, but he damn sure wasn’t ever rich enough for anything higher quality than Jack Daniel’s. Honestly, until the passing of his beloved, he hadn’t been much of a drinker. Now it seemed to be the only thing keeping him within his right mind, but even the alcohol couldn’t fix just how fucked up he was.

“I swiped it from my parents,” Jett held his hand out, waiting for the bottle to be returned.

“What’re you, seventeen?” Jack teased, delicately placing the bottle into his friend’s palm.

“I damn sure don’t have the money for this kind of thing.” The younger man added before tipping the bottle back again, beginning to chug it once more. With his free hand, he patted the spot to his right, signaling Jack to sit down with him. He obliged and settled his weight down onto the car, trying to keep a bit of distance between him and Jett. It was freezing out and Jack was concerned about his little party animal, but it was nice, getting to look out over the city and feel young again, even if it meant he really wasn’t.

Jett finally pulled the bottle away from his mouth and relinquished it over to Jack with a groan.

Jack chortled, patting Jett’s hand.  “I’d say I feel bad for you, but you hogged all the booze.” He spoke around the rim of the bottle. The other man scoffed, dismissing him with a wave. Jack casted a sideways glance at Jett, he was staring at the older man now. Before he could even question it, Jett had rolled over on top of him, peppering kisses along his jawline. The bottle fell out of Jack’s hand and rolled over the ground with a clatter.

Jett’s hands snaked up into Jack’s hair and timidly pulled, his kisses traversing up to his lover’s mouth. Jack was still in shock, all he could do was lazily wrap his arms around Jett to secure him on top. It wasn’t until the younger man teased Jack’s bottom lip with his teeth that Jack finally processed what was going on. He started kissing back, catching the adorable little twink’s lip between his teeth. The taste of alcohol flooded Jack’s mouth as he parted his lips, inviting Jett to explore with his tongue. Soft coos and moans escaped the man on top.

Jack’s cock strained against his denim jeans, begging to be touched. Jett must’ve noticed because soon after, he started grinding his front against Jack’s. It wasn’t much, especially underneath clothing, but the friction was enough to drive Jack fucking _mad_. He wanted to be fucked, right against the car in the unforgiving cold. He wanted Jett’s delicious bronze skin pressed against his chest, filling the gap between his thighs. He wanted to nuzzle that thick, curly hair. He wanted-

_Gabriel._

Jack immediately went flaccid, his movements totally ceasing. He stared up at the sky, passed Jett. He stared up at the stars, his body limp, his eyes glazed over with dead emotion. He no longer felt nor cared about the boy on top of him, nipping away at his skin and grinding against his crotch.

“Take me home.” He demanded

Jett froze, lifting himself up on his elbows. “W-what?”


	4. Chapter 4

**_Bang, bang, bang!_ **

Jack groaned, shifting beneath his thick covers.

**_Bang, bang, bang!_ **

The old man’s eyes snapped open, peering up at his ceiling with a glare. He waited a few moments, trying to catch that noise again.

**_Bang, bang, bang!_ **

_Someone’s knocking at the door_. He growled, throwing the blankets off of himself. The man sat on the side of the bed, his elbows on his knees and his posture slouched, staring at the floor littered with bottles and cans. His head throbbed and his mouth felt dry. He wanted nothing more than to just sleep, but whoever was at his door didn’t seem to share the same interests as him.

He stood up and stretched, his joints popping. If he were young again maybe the popping would feel good, but now that he’s up in age it just sends pain shooting through his body, reminding him of his lost youth.

Jack pushed his face against the front door, looking through the little peek-hole. The light outside burned his tired eyes, but he managed to focus long enough to see the feminine figure standing outside of his apartment. He unlocked the door, pulling it open to greet his friend.

“Morning, Ana.” His voice sounded deep and groggy.

“It’s two, Morrison.” The woman snapped, pushing her way inside of his apartment. She glanced around the place, inspecting it, just as she had always done for Jack since he finally came out of the shadows and told his old comrades that he was alive. On many occasions she scorned him for the place looking like a pack of animals lived there. “You haven’t called or texted any of us. We were beginning to worry about you! Where have you even _been_?” Ana spun on her heel, now concentrating her steely gaze on him. She meant well, she really did, but Jack didn’t need a mom or a lecture right now.

“I’ve been here. I’ve been - _fine_ , I suppose.” He ran a calloused hand through his thin, gray locks. It had been two weeks since the night with Jett and he still didn’t feel ready to socialize with anyone, even his closest and oldest friends. He was more than aware of their messages and calls, especially Jett’s, but he just didn’t care. As usual, he felt better off alone, losing himself in the bottom of a bottle, waking up in the middle of the day to vomit and drink more until he passed out.

“Is this about that boy, Morrison? The one you went to a party with?” Ana stepped closer to Jack, never breaking eye contact. It made him feel nervous, like she could read the entirety of his soul and mind by just _looking_ at him. “Jack, what happened? Did he do something to you?” Her tone shifted to a threatening one, a defensive one. She was a sweet and caring soul, but Lord have mercy on anyone who dared mess with her family.

“N-no, Ana. It’s not like that. It’s - It’s more complicated. But he didn’t do anything,” Jack chewed on his lip, trying so hard to keep his composure. “It was Gabe.” A look of confusion brushed across the woman’s face, then one of realization, _then_ one of pity.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice was low and soothing.

“Talk about what, Ana? About the fact that I can’t move on from Gabriel because-” The familiar sting of tears began to prod at Jack’s eyes. He buried his face into his hands, vigorously shaking his head.

“Because he was the only man you truly loved, Morrison. I know. I’m old, not blind. I can see the misery and sorrow in your eyes every time you see any of us, any time even the happiest memories are spoken of him.” She wrapped her arms around Jack’s torso, burying her face into his burly chest. “I know what you’re going through, Jack. We miss him too, you know. Maybe not nearly to the extent that you do, but we hold him in our hearts, just the same as you. We’ve all lost someone and it’s never easy, but you _will_ get through it.”

The two stood in their warm embrace, quietly weeping against one another.

Ana was the first to pull away, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. “Do you want me to cook something for you?” She looked up into Jack’s deep blue eyes still filled with tears. The man nodded like a child, bringing her in for one last hug before allowing her to get dinner started.

He retreated back to his room, preparing a shower for himself. He smelled like stale sweat and Jack Daniel’s with just a hint of pathetic loser mixed in there somewhere. It was overall a really unpleasant smell and he was grateful that Ana was polite enough to not mention the stench when she was hugging him. Then again, she was probably just as used to it as he was through the years.

Jack stood over his bathroom counter, staring at himself in the mirror. His appearance was disheveled; hair sticking up at all ends, neglected scruff growing across his face, bags under his eyes, the whole nine yards.

What was once a proud, clean-cut and stately man was now no more than a drunken derelict, forever mourning a man that was no more.

The hot water pouring down upon Jack felt like purely like heaven. He was ashamed to admit it, but it had been a few days since the man had showered, he was usually too trashed to even wobble his way to the bedroom, let alone properly undress and hold himself upright in the shower.

A pang of hunger crashed through his stomach, causing him to wrap an arm around his torso. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he hadn’t really eaten in days either. Everything seemed to be catching up to him finally, including the long overdue queasiness of his drunken stooper from last night. It was truly ironic, being so starved for food yet sick to your stomach all at once.

He deserved it; he deserved _everything._ He had been too cocky and selfish when he was _Striker Commander Morrison_ that he neglected his best friend, his _boyfriend_ , the very man who helped him soar through his career just so he could treat him like dirt and let their relationship become a malnourished being of its former self.

Gabe deserved better, he always had.

Jack wasn’t just shitty to his lover, he was a horrible person to his friends, his _family_. Most of them are still alive and the selfish bastard takes them for granted, not even so much as a text when they’re all worrying sick about him. Hell, Ana was in the kitchen cooking him food while he just stood in the shower cleaning up the filthy and broken image that he created out of himself.

He was miserable and he deserved it.

Ana greeted Jack when he finally finished up in the bathroom. He had shaved and managed to actually put clean clothes on, he looked half decent for once.

“What’s on the menu, ma’am?” He grinned, sidling up next to her in his small excuse for a kitchen.

"Pancakes. Nothing spectacular, really. You only had a few things to work with. Unless you _want_ to eat a moldy sandwich.” She casted a sideways glance at him and gave a warm smile, “You clean up nice, Morrison. I was afraid I was going to have to hose you down!”

Jack fiddled with the string of his sweatpants, looking down at the floor like a guilty child. “Ana?”

“ _Yeeees_?” She softly sang, never taking her eyes off of the stove in front of them.

“T-thank you. You know - for everything.” Ana furrowed her brow, shaking her head, almost completely ignoring his gratitude as if she hadn’t even heard him.

“I’m a mother, Jack. Both figuratively and literally. I do what I do because I care, and you don’t need to thank me for that. None of you do.” She turned towards Jack, pinching his left cheek and jiggling it around. “Just call your mother every now and then, hm? I worry.” He put his head down in shame, nodding pathetically.

“Yes, ma’am.” He murmured.

“Now, are you going to tell me more about that _boy_ or are you going to continue to avoid the topic as if it never happened? Because that’s not how _adults_ handle their business, Morrison.”

Jack ran a hand through his hair, casting his gaze off to the side as if his refrigerator were the most interesting thing on the planet at that very moment. It’s not that he didn’t trust Ana or he was afraid of telling her what happened, he just didn’t want to talk about it. Period. Plain and simple; but her motherly scowl made him buckle.

“Things were going great, save for a few moments where my emotions flooded over me like I was a hormonal teenager. I had fun at his party, chatted with his folks, some of his other family, it was good. Then his aunts and uncles started chipping away at my bravado, twenty-questioning me about personal matters.”

“You didn’t let anything slip, did you?” Ana gave him an accusatory look through the corner of her eye.

“Jesus, Ana, do you seriously take me for a goddamn idiot?” Jack shook his head, brushing off her comment, “After a while they started asking me about my love life, asking if I was ever married and why I was currently single.” He nibbled on his lip, hoping that little bit of information would sate her curiosity.

It didn’t.

“Did you answer them? If so, what did you tell them exactly?” Again, her sideways glance seemed accusatory and her tone shifted along with it.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, trying his best to carry on through the conversation, “I-I just took off. I ran to the bathroom and didn’t say anything. Jett eventually came to check on me and he offered to take me somewhere else, _any_ where else. He wound up taking me to a cliché makeout-point kind of area, a cliff out in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere overlooking most of the city. We started drinking and-” He overemphasized a cough, tugging at the collar of his plain gray shirt.

“ _Morrison!”_ Ana clamored, whipping her head to the side to face him.

A sheepish chuckle left Jack’s mouth, a rufescent tint began to fill his cheeks, leading all the way up to the points of his ears. “Ana, it’s-it’s not like that,” He chuckled once more, turning an even brighter shade of red. “We didn’t actually _do_ anything or get anywhere. It was just a buzzed makeout session. I couldn’t go through with it because-”

“Because Gabriel, I know.” Ana sighed, flicking her eyes down to the floor, slightly off to the side, “Continue.” She demanded after a few moments, fixing her eyes on the stove once more, flipping one of the fluffy pancakes before it burned.

“Welp, that’s exactly what happened. And I haven’t talked to him since.” Jack leaned against the counter, his arms crossed in front of his toned chest. The sudden weight caused the counter to creek loudly within the awkward silence hanging thickly in the air, save for the gentle sizzle and pop of the pancakes.

“You need to talk to him, Morrison. He doesn’t deserve to get left high and dry because of your problems.” Even though he felt attacked, Jack perfectly understood where she was coming from. Jett _didn’t_ deserve to get ghosted just because Jack couldn’t commit.

“I will, Ana. I promise. I just - I need some time.”

“Good,” She thrusted a plate at Jack, “Now eat.” Ana smiled, pinching his cheek one last time before shooing him off to dig into his plate of pancakes.

After she was done making her own food, she met Jack on the living room sofa where he had his eyes glued to the TV, watching some dumb action movie. He looked happy and content, like how he used to be before everything went to shit.

“These are _amazing_ , Ana!” He spoke around a mouthful of food. She laughed, shoving against his shoulder.

“Manners, young man! Don’t eat with your mouth full.”

“Hey, you wanna see seafood?”

“Don’t you _dare_!”

The two cackled and stuffed their faces, sometimes making fun of the movie they were watching. For a moment, they could almost forget that anything had changed at all. They could  almost feel young again, their whole lives ahead of them. They could almost forget the loss and the pain, both physical and emotional, that they felt. They could almost remember what it felt like to be _alive_ again.

So when it came time for Ana to go home, Jack clung to her like child who was afraid of being alone in the dark; because his life _was_ dark.

“Come visit me tomorrow?” He practically pouted.

“Yes, most definitely. Promise to clean up for me?” Jack nodded, dragging her into a hug. She patted his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek as a goodbye.

When the door closed and Jack was alone with himself once more, he was almost oblivious to how heavy the air felt, how generally _off_ it felt. It was much more than the crushing loneliness fucking with him - no - someone was _inside_ of his apartment. Every muscle in his body tensed, preparing him for a fight.

He kept a spare energy pistol taped to the underside of the couch, so he tried making his way back to it, attempting so desperately to act casual as to not alert the intruder of his actions. Slowly, but not _too_ slowly, he crept back to the couch and sat down, hunching over to pretend he was scratching his ankle so he could feel around for the gun.

His hands ran over empty space and panic filled him. _Where the_ **_fuck_ ** _is it?!_ He screamed inside of his mind. The nearest gun was stashed inside of his bedroom and Jack wasn’t particularly interested in exploring his own apartment, seeing as there were only a limited amount of places an intruder could hide within it, one of them being his own bedroom and he was _not_ looking to get ambushed from behind a door or underneath a bed.

He may have been a trained military professional, but fear still coated every inch of his body down to his bones. Especially with a missing gun and no protection otherwise. Except- _Gabe’s knife._ Jack suddenly remembered that when they were younger he had gotten Gabriel an eight inch hunting knife for their one year anniversary and he put it away after his passing.

The knife was kept inside of a box, hidden behind- _Goddamnit!_ _My dresser._ The reality of the situation set in and he quickly realized that he had no other choice than to enter his bedroom, either to find his second gun or the knife. Either way, he was a sitting duck without weapons.

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled as he worked up the courage to walk into his own bedroom. He stood up from the couch and pretended to stretch and yawn, casually walking towards the room. The door was ajar and he couldn’t remember for the life of him if that’s how he left it after his shower or if that’s the work of the intruder. Nonetheless, he carried on, gently pushing the door open and faking yet another yawn. He didn’t bother with the lights, the soldier program he entered years ago enhanced every part of his body, so even in his old age he could see perfectly clear through the dark.

He trudged towards his bed, running his eyes along the room. Nothing _seemed_ out of the ordinary, but he also wasn’t trying to give himself away by showing that he was aware someone else was inside of his apartment with him. He sat down, quietly grunting and faking one more yawn before reaching out towards his nightstand, where his fingers ran along empty space yet again. This time his paranoias were confirmed; whoever had broken into his home took his weapons. The knife was his last chance, but a deep gut feeling told him that it would be the same thing and he’d have to just fight with his brute strength alone.

Slowly, he got up and made his way towards the giant oak dresser that sat against the wall in front of his bed. Jack knelt down, sliding his hand between the wall and dresser, trying to feel for the box he had hidden away. He started to lose hope until his fingers brushed against the cold leather box. He attempted to pull it out, but icy metal met the hot, sweaty skin of his temple.

“Ah, ah, ah, _Morrison.”_ A deep animalistic and otherworldly growl warned from his right.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you who are reading this and continuing to support me and my work. You're all the reason I keep writing this!


	5. Chapter 5

The gun pressed harder against Jack’s temple, forcing him to crook his neck. He couldn’t see his attacker, but he knew that voice anywhere. It was all too familiar. He’d heard it a thousand times or more on purloined recordings, television broadcasts,  _ described _ . 

“ _ Reaper _ .” Jack hissed. He knew sooner or later that Talon was bound to catch up to him, but he never imagined that they’d sic one of their most proficient men on him. He was always a pain in the ass, but he never thought he’d be the one to get under the most renown terrorist group’s skin.

“ _ Mmmm. _ You’re observant, aren’t you? What do you have there, hm?” Every word that poured from Reaper’s mouth almost sent bile shooting up Jack’s throat. His voice wasn’t the problem, so much that it was the man behind it. Standing next to Morrison was  _ the _ Reaper. The man who took down entire villages, cities, companies, political figures. He was a goddamn force to be reckoned with and Jack was unfortunate enough to be the one at the end of the gun barrel.

Reaper growled, stomping the ground with his weighted boot. A metal claw pointed towards the gap between the wall and dresser, where the knife had been stashed. Jack cautiously reached for the box, sliding it out into view. The gun at his temple dropped and Reaper knelt down to pick the box up, setting it up on the dresser. Jack unbent his neck, turning to look at the assailant. He had a shotgun in his left hand, lazily pointing it in Jack’s direction to ensure his cooperation, and his right hand was resting on the lid to the box.

“What do you want from me?” Jack spoke out, his voice a bit shakier than he would’ve liked it to be.

“Who did this belong to?” Reaper asked, tracing the top of the box with his clawed finger. He practically ignored that Jack had even said anything.

“A friend. Please don’t - don’t ruin it.” Jack felt pathetic, asking his  _ attacker _ not to tarnish one of the very few things Jack had left of his lover.

“A friend?” The man stepped towards Jack and squatted down beside him, his white pointed skull mask staring holes into Jack’s soul. “What does the name ‘ _ Gabriel _ ’ mean to you? Or ‘ _ Reyes,’ _ perhaps?”

Without skipping a beat, Jack shook his head and laughed. “Absolutely nothing. Is that why you’re here? To, what, interrogate me? See if I have any dirt on someone for you?” He scoffed, glaring Reaper down. “I thought you were Talon’s baddest of the bad, so  _ why _ are you here fucking with an old drunken has-been?”

A fist swung out and struck Jack in the face. Stars blurred his vision for a moment, just enough time for Reaper to move closer and get in his face, grabbing a fistful of Jack’s hair to keep him looking straight.

“I’m going to ask one more time,” Reaper leaned in close to Jack’s ear, “What does that name mean to you?” Jack shivered, goosebumps prickling along his skin. As sick as it was, he kind of  _ liked _ hearing that demonic tone against his ear. It sounded familiar, but not like it used to. It felt different now, like he’d heard it a million times before, cooing at him and calling his name.

“It doesn’t mean anything to me. You’re wasting your time.” At this point Jack seemed to be trying to convince  _ himself _ that the name didn’t mean anything to him, that he didn’t spend countless nights whispering it in the dark when his lover was out on a mission, that he didn’t still whisper it through his drunken haze on those cold and crushing nights when it seemed like the only thing keeping him from tipping over the edge and ending his existence was that one word, that one name;  _ Gabriel. _

Reaper clicked his tongue from somewhere behind the mask. He released Jack from his grip and stood up, beginning to pace in front of him. “How about  _ Jett?” _ All color left Jack’s face and he clenched his jaw, trying to keep his poker face from faltering. Reaper paused and looked him over, a chuckle breaking through the silence between them. “I know you have some relation to both of them,  _ Jack, _ so do me a favor and just tell me the truth.

A defeated sigh left Jack. He wasn’t going to relinquish any information of his dead lover over to a terrorist, but he couldn’t let Jett get hurt because of a past that didn’t concern him.

“Reyes-” Jack stopped, thinking through his words carefully before proceeding. “Reyes is dead, and has been for a long time now,” The words clung to the air, refusing to dissipate. “He died back when Overwatch fell to its knees both literally and figuratively.” His eyes fell to the floor, his expression drained of any emotion.

Reaper made a sound of disgust, seemingly unhappy with the answer Jack gave. He lifted Jack up by the front of his shirt and brought him to eye level, hissing. The old soldier gripped at his forearms and dug his fingers in, trying to break free of his grasp. Viscous smoke wafted from Reaper’s mask, snaking through the air towards Jack. It wriggled into his mouth and nose. He began to panic, kicking and scratching at the other man.

His motions ceased.

His vision blacked, but he still felt conscious somehow.  _ Am I dead? _ He thought to himself. He ached for some reason, like a crushing weight was on top of him. Like a ton of rubble and debris.  _ Like when Overwatch HQ fell on me. _

A familiar smell invaded his nose all of a sudden.

_ Whiskey, Curve cologne, cigarettes, and - blood? _ The scent filled his senses and stroked at the walls of his lungs, nostalgia teased at his brain and he began to cry.  _ Gabriel.  _ “Morrison.” His mouth opened on its own volition.  _ Gabriel.  _ “Morrison.” Each time he tried to speak his lover’s name within his mind it just came out as his own.  _ Gabriel!  _ “Morrison!” It wasn’t until then that Jack recognized the voice that was meant to be his. That very voice he thought to be lost to time fell from his own mouth.

_ Gabriel?  _ “Morrison?” His voice sounded so broken, so hoarse, so drained. The inside of his mouth felt dry and he swallowed thickly, the taste of iron rushed down his parched throat.  _ Where the fuck am I?  _ “Morrison? Reinhardt?”

Jack was shaken to his core. Somehow he was reliving Gabriel’s experience - reliving his  _ death. _

The thought made Jack feel sick to his stomach, but he couldn’t vomit, he couldn’t so much as gag. He had to sit and watch and listen to Gabriel slowly die, completely useless to help. He wanted so badly to help, to single-handedly lift the building off of Reyes, but he couldn’t do a goddamn thing. He was nothing more than a  _ useless _ voice inside of a dying man’s head. Reaper was a fucking monster for making him listen to this, to  **_feel_ ** it and listen to it.

It felt like ages Jack spent in the dark, listening to the broken, ragged breath of his partner, until eventually he heard something else:

_ Footsteps.  _ “H-hello?” Gabriel’s voice called out, desperation seeping into it. No answer. From somewhere to the left they could hear rubble being moved, the idle chatter of people talking on the comms, and more footsteps. Hope filled the both of them, giving them the strength to call out with more vigor. “Hello! I’m- I’m here!”

Gabriel called out until his throat became raw and it was a chore just to breathe. No one came for him, no one called out for him.

“Reyes,” Gabriel perked up at his own name, calling out once more just to be met with a devastating blow to his ambition. “No, he’s not here. We looked everywhere. No sign of Morrison, either. Taking the survivors to the hospital ASAP. Moving out.”

They  _ lied _ . They didn’t look for him, they didn’t even try.

Anger welled up inside of Gabriel’s chest and he began to sob, trapped and helpless underneath a mess that  _ he _ caused. He didn’t even care if he died, he just wanted them to make an effort for Jack, to rescue him. Through everything, he never wanted to lose Morrison, let alone be the cause of his demise.

“Morrison, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for things to get so bad. Please be okay,  _ for me. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for making this chapter so short and a little messy. I was unsure how to properly format the "Double Voice" part where Jack's thoughts get conveyed through Gabriel, so that's what took most of my time writing this chapter. Anyways, I hope you guys can forgive the sloppiness of this one! I'll try harder in the next chapter. Please feel free to leave feedback!


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